Make Us Meaningless Again
by frecklesandbowties
Summary: Knowing the "stench of public schools" is his worst nightmare, Sebastian's father sends him to McKinley as a punishment for sleeping around one time too many. At first, his sole mission is to convince his father to send him back to Dalton, but after seeing the one and only Kurt in a cheerios uniform things might start to get a little more interesting for him.
1. Prologue

**This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, so my sincerest apologies if it's not so great. Reviews are always welcome. I just love the pairing and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I hope some of you like it enough to stick around, it will be multi chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, any of it's character or storylines. I just have a lot of opinions.**

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No.

No fucking way.

"You can't make me do anything I don't want to, I'm nearly eighteen."

"I'm your father. I'm also a state's attorney. I know how you like to use that to your advantage when the tables are turned." Sebastian's father looked down sternly upon his son but a smile broke out a moment later. His dad had a special talent for never being able to keep a straight face whilst shouting at him but simultaneously terrifying him with the truth implied in his words.

Sebastian scoffed. "I have rights."

"Sebastian don't you dare play innocent. Your behaviour is unacceptable and you're lucky I'm still letting you live under my roof."

"Oh c'mon it was just one time."

"Don't play the victim either. I'm not stupid." Sebastian looked away, he couldn't win this argument, he'd had his fair share of warnings.

"C'mon Seb, look at me when I'm talking to you." The nickname was always something his father used just before he was about to drop a bombshell of news. This got Sebastian's attention. "I've already spoken to principal Figgins of McKinley High school over in Lima."

Sebastian's eyes shot up. Was this a fucking joke? Sure, okay his dad didn't approve of his more risqué behaviours but he would never sabotage his own reputation by sending his youngest son to _public school _just to piss him off, would he?

Sebastian's father must have understood the thought process the younger man just went through judging by the smug grin now plastered across his face. It was identical to the one Sebastian has just after tearing someone down with his charming words.

"Thought I'd get that reaction. Just wait until you get there, son." He laughed.

"You wouldn't dare. You're too proud." He interjected.

"Oh but I would. You see, there is lots of talk lately, around the office. 'Did you hear, the boss's son is a right slut.'" Sebastian grimaced at the word. He was not a slut, and there was never an excuse for slut shaming. "Vulgar language. I had a mind to go and sort them out, except I'm starting to agree with them." He sighed.

That stung. He'd always had a close relationship with his father, they hardly argued because they had a mutual love and respect for one another.

"I'm just at the end of my patience. I've brushed your shameless, outlandish behaviour under the rug one too many times, laughing about it, making a joke but I just can't do it anymore. Not now that it's starting to affect my life. My reputation. It's just gone too far."

Sebastian thought he should have felt some guilt at that statement. But instead he just felt angry.

"Look, you know I love you, and you know how much I appreciate the fun life. But I'm worried about you." He paused. Like Sebastian, he didn't do the feelings thing, he just relied on the implications. "You're better than this."

"Are you expecting me to apologise? Because fine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this _bothers_ you so much. It won't happen again. Just _please_ don't send me there." Was he begging now? The feeling of the word 'please' left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sebastian Smythe doesn't ask. He just gets.

"Oh Sebastian I know you better than that. If I had even a nickel for every time you'd said 'it won't happen again' I'd be rich enough to retire now."

"You already are, dad." He retorted, just bored now. Clearly he was getting nowhere doing this the polite way. His father would come around when he realised what a ridiculous idea this was.

He didn't.


	2. Day One

Two weeks later, Sebastian 'I-hate-the-stench-of-public-schools' Smythe was being driven towards the parking lot of McKinley High; home to the No Directions and his all-time favourite couple; Hobbit and gay-face.

Sebastian sighed heavily as his father pulled up to the curb just outside the main doors, as if expecting him to skip his first day. Not that that hadn't crossed his mind, but he didn't want to get into any more trouble if he wanted to be back at Dalton by the end of the semester.

Bitterly, he was sure his father thought this was hilarious; none of this plan fitted with his laid back approach to parenting. The only acceptable reasoning he could find was that this was all some huge joke to scare Sebastian into playing innocent virgin and that as soon as he got out of the car his father would laugh and say "fooled you" and he would drive him back to Dalton and that would be the end of it.

He didn't.

After being thrown out of the car with a sarcastic "have a nice day at school" from his smirking father, he walked towards the doors, framed across the top with the words "learning today, living tomorrow". Tacky, he thought to himself.

He felt sick already. It was almost as if he could physically feel the waves of Lima losers encompassing him before he'd even set foot in the building.

He straightened up and carried on, determined to show his father that this was stupid, and that this would not faze him because he simply doesn't care. He'd get him back.

He earned a few stares from students who were crowding the lockers, talking loudly and moving incredibly fast for half past eight on a Monday morning. Christ. It felt like a zoo. He didn't imagine this school saw a lot of new faces, so he was bound to be some kind of novelty, especially seen as he was transferring mid-semester in his senior year (who does that?)

He adopted his signature smirk, stood tall with an air of confidence and practically marched his way down the hallway to collect his class schedule from the reception. If he was going to do this, and he'd resigned himself to that on the basis that a, Sebastian Smythe loves a challenge and b, he would not let his levels of happiness be controlled by anyone else so letting his father win unacceptable, then he would do it right by instating his superior authority in high school hierarchy straight off the bat through his exceptional good looks and outstanding charm.

The building was pretty easy to navigate given the ever clearing population in the corridors and the fact that it was nowhere near as grand as the architecture he was used to at Dalton, and he received his schedule in time to have a wander around and get his bearings.

It was at this point that he realised his burning need to avoid any and all Glee club members at all costs. He was not ready for that kind of humiliation, not yet.

He rounded the last corner which would complete his self-guided tour of the campus just in time to catch Kurt and Blaine having a 'moment' outside of their lockers. The way Blaine was looking at Kurt, as if he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen made the feelings of nausea reignite inside him, so he quickly doubled back on himself just in time to crash hard into Santana Lopez.

A surprising amount of expressions crossed her face in a matter of seconds before she finally settled on confusion. She opened her mouth as if to ask something and then closed it just as quickly.

"Tramp stamp. Are you lost?" She asked, replacing the confused expression with her queen bitch one. Sebastian is never one to back down from verbal sparring, especially with someone who was as entertaining and quick witted as he was.

"Oh hey, Sha-queer-a, did your relatives enjoy that piñata? I had it sent first class, consider it a gift." He smirked.

She ignored the quip easily, "no, really, what the fuck are you doing in my school, you smarmy rat bastard?"

His smirk faltered for a second before he composed himself. He could hardly deny that he'd transferred. He wasn't in uniform, it was 8:47am on a Monday morning and he was holding a class schedule in his hand.

Her eyes followed his to the folded piece of paper in his hand; she grabbed it and then unfolded it, skimming the contents.

"No fucking way." She burst out laughing, which didn't at all shock him. He didn't think there would be a person he'd encounter here who wouldn't find something funny in the fact that Sebastian Smythe, out and proud snob and hater of public schools, was here, in a public school.

"That's what I said." He muttered, not sure if he meant for Santana to hear. He snatched the schedule back from her, making a move to go around her, but not without pushing hard into her shoulder 'accidentally'.

She let him go, still in shock of the situation, and he was pissed that he didn't get the last word, really wished he could've at least survived two hours before the New Directions finding out about this. He had no doubts that the first thing Santana had done after he left would've been to text them all to let them know.

He headed to his first lesson, math, for which he was now five minutes late. Arrive in style, why not? He thought. It was fairly simple stuff, algebra he was pretty sure he'd covered back in tenth grade, so he took the opportunity to zone out and think some more about his weekend instead.

It had been pretty intense, three nights straight at scandals, waking up somewhere he didn't know each night with someone he didn't know and wouldn't bother getting to know, with a dull headache. To Sebastian it was pretty standard.

He even considered it a success of some sort that he managed to pull two nights out without getting caught once by his father. Or maybe he'd just given up and was hoping that this lame public school plan would work its magic in getting Sebastian to change his ways.

Still, if the rest of his lessons were as mind numbingly simple as this one, he may as well have already graduated. He wasn't going to push himself too hard.

By lunch he had relaxed a little in the knowledge that he hadn't yet shared a single lesson with anyone from the New Directions. A few girls had tried to talk to him during bio last period, and he indulged them until it got boring, (which was pretty quickly, they were three of the most two dimensional people he'd ever had the pleasure of speaking to, and this morning he was just not in the mood), but that was it.

For the first time in his life he was content to blend in.

By lunch he was feeling way too relaxed for his own good, though the incredibly poor standard of food in the cafeteria lessened his mood a great deal. Still refusing to make the New Directions (or more, 'Klaine') aware of his new student status, he decided to skip eating all together and head outside to explore the rest of the grounds.

He made his way over to the bleachers, placing himself right at the back and got out his phone.

**From Blaine:** (10:18am) Hey, I know we haven't spoken much lately, but Santana said she saw you this morning. You haven't really transferred have you? You would've told me first, right?

The message was from a few hours ago, but he decided not to reply, for now. It was a pointless exercise and at this rate he didn't think he'd even make it to the end of the day.

He really hated this. He felt vulnerable. And if there was one thing in his life he couldn't stand apart from public schools, overly camp gay stereotypes and Ohio, it was having the lower hand. He was most definitely out of his comfort zone and it was irking him to no end that he had lose the verbal battle with Satan this morning and was currently _hiding out_ in the bleachers watching a group of uncoordinated, unattractive homophobes run about a poorly tended soccer pitch in mid-March.

It was barely past noon and it already felt like his father was winning. Okay, enough of this pathetic behaviour, he told himself. You don't get a reputation for being a charming, snarky but condescending son of a bitch by sulking behind the bleachers like a girl who just broke up with her one and only in a chick flick.

He turned up to AP English, his next lesson, cringing for the slightest moment upon entering a new classroom and praying he'd be four times lucky and avoid anyone he knew.

Apparently his luck had run out, because sat there in the back corner with an "are you fucking serious" expression plastered all over his face, was Kurt Hummel.

It got better. The only free seat was right next to him. He didn't realise he'd be staring (glaring more like) until the teacher cleared her throat several times, pulling his attention away.

"Sebastian, isn't it?" She smiled. She was a small woman, young too, probably relatively new to the position if her untamed friendliness and optimistic approach was anything to go by. Everyone knew this was a soul crushing profession.

"Yeah." He grimaced, forcing a polite but fake smile in return.

"Do take a seat." She gestured towards the spot next to Kurt after he'd continued to just stand there somewhat awkwardly.

Reluctantly he made his way to the back of the room and set his bag down heavily enough to startle Kurt out of his smug expression.

"Well, well, well. Everyone's favourite meerkat has come to join the 'common' people." Kurt smiled, sarcasm dripping from his tone. The startled expression had vanished from his face quicker than it had appeared.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't flatter yourself."

"I must admit, when Santana first told me that you of all people were here this morning, I really didn't know whether to throw up or laugh. Are you really that desperate to get Blaine?"

"You really think this is about your pathetic pretty pony of a boyfriend? Please. I'm insulted." He replied.

"So why are you here? We're all dying to know. I mean I know you lost regionals, which must have had some effect on even your oversized ego, but you've absolutely lost it if you think coming here will mean you can join New Directions."

Sebastian really felt insulted by now, was Kurt serious? Blaine and regionals were irrelevant to him now, and he was just plain stupid if he thought a hobbit who wears too much hair gel and a _singing_ competition of all things was enough to keep his attention for longer the time it took to become aware of them.

Okay maybe he still wanted Blaine a little bit, but only because not getting what he wanted tended to wind him up for a good few days and his charm was irresistible.

"I don't care about your stupid prancy club or your boy toy or your stupid gay face." He answered.

"Glad to see that you haven't lost your talent for making accurate observations and overusing the same four insults." Kurt was determined to find out why Sebastian was here, even if that meant having extended conversations with him, he _needed_ to know.

"I'm not glad to see that you still don't know where the men's section is." Sebastian turned his attention to the front of the class, where the small woman was now presenting the three month long assignment on classic British literature. He rolled his eyes at the worn-out choice and resigned to the sad fact that he'd probably never be challenged here.

It was a great shame, considering he did have a particular love and talent for English. He wasn't entirely devoid of culture.

Kurt was still staring at Sebastian as if he wanted to carry on the conversation but Sebastian turned away from him and had picked up his pen to begin scribbling notes into his admittedly beautiful composition book.

They stayed pretty much silent for the remainder of the lesson.

Unfortunately, Sebastian also shared his next lesson, history, with Kurt. Who was sat next to that annoyingly self-absorbed and whiny brunette he seemed to love so much. Sebastian thought she was somewhat similar to him in that way, but she lacked his way with words.

He could feel their stares burning into the back of his head from the moment he sat down, and he was sure he heard Rachel mutter the ends of "but think of Nationals, Kurt. We need this" whilst tugging repeatedly on his arm. Does she ever think about anything else?

The only silver lining of this was that he was sat on the opposite side of the classroom to them, and the guy sat in front had a _great_ ass. Perhaps Sebastian could have some fun in this wreck of an institution after all.

Sebastian wasted no time in trying to get the attention of the guy in front, who at one point he believed could be asleep. Although, it didn't take long before he responded, turning around in his chair to see who had been throwing the various scraps of paper with incredibly crude and borderline awful chat up lines onto his desk.

The boy did not disappoint, which was a pleasant surprise considering he didn't think anyone in this part of Ohio could be worthy his approval. His hair was slightly longer than that of Sebastian's and a much lighter blond. His strong jawline framed his perfectly full lips, which Sebastian could not take his eyes off, even as they repeatedly asked "what the fuck?"

After several long seconds he moved on to roam over the rest of his figure. He was probably of average height, (hard to tell whilst sat down), and quite delicate looking upon first glance, but upon looking more closely Sebastian could admire the way the fabric of his shirt hinted slightly at his arm and chest muscles. Approval all round.

After making his judgement, Sebastian looked up to his eyes (and wow! They were beautiful), smirked and stretched out his hand in a gesture. The blond character accepted it whilst Sebastian introduced himself.

"Robin", he replied returning the smile and my goodness that just complimented his face so much more, he was _stunning. _"You're the new kid, right?"

He'd been asked that question one too many times today, and it was still only Monday.

"Yeah, yeah", he answered, wanting to keep the other boys attention for just a little bit longer but seemingly stalling considering his high school environment. Though, to be honest, with that ass, either view was perfectly acceptable. "So, fancy helping me catch up with all this coursework?"

He added a little bit of flirt into his tone, Sebastian didn't need any help, despite being at least four weeks behind on the project, he was pretty sure it would be piss easy to complete in a night or two nearer to the deadline.

Robin frowned at that, picking up on the other non-so-subtle undertones of his implication. "I'm not sure if I have the time, I'm really behind myself actually."

He was stuttering a little now, but Sebastian just smiled wider.

"Oh come on, help a new guy out?" He mock pouted. The guy just shook his head and turned back to face the front of the class.

Sebastian wasn't done yet. By the sounds of it, he had a good few months at least of daily history lessons to crack the boy in front of him. Challenge accepted.

Finally, it was four pm, the end of the day. The speed in which the people sitting around him leapt up and scrambled out of the building was almost comical. The noise and buzz of the place intensified as hundreds of lockers were being slammed shut one after the other and groups of friends were meeting up to exchange any remaining gossip from the weekend. How _public school_ of them.

After watching gay face and female hobbit link arms and turn their snooty noses up at him as they walked past him out of the classroom, he gathered his books and headed out.

His dad was now over fifteen minutes late in picking him up. He was certain this was still part of the joke; keep him waiting, having to rely on someone else. His freedom had been taken away from him completely as he didn't even have his car.

Sebastian shifted his weight to his other foot, growing uncomfortable with the amount of public school children who were still lingering in the parking lot. He'd avoided all the football jerks that had a misplaced sense of self importance, and liked to pick on the weak, vulnerable teenagers, the new kids and the minorities, and in Ohio they tended to stick out like a sore thumb.

Perhaps it was thanks the fact that he was attractive and confident and could act like he'd been at this school for years, long nights at scandals turning up home at four am had given him plenty of practice at becoming invisible to certain people if he wanted.

Though no sooner than a few minutes later, none other than Blaine Anderson was bouncing towards him, complete with a pink bowtie and hair so gelled it would never escape even in gale force winds. Surely that can't be healthy.

"Sebastian! Seb, hey!" He exclaimed with a surprisingly large grin on his face. Sebastian turned to face him at the sound, grimacing.

"Hey, killer. How's it going?"

"Great. Great. How- how was your first day, then?" Blaine said, hesitating a little.

"Magical. I don't know why I ever had such a low opinion of public schools." He replied, smirking.

"Oh, fantastic." Blaine clearly hadn't picked up on the sarcasm. The dumb schoolboy thing was, whilst adorable, a little frustrating at times. "I didn't see you around like- at all today though. You'll sit with us at lunch tomorrow, right?"

What was Blaine's angle here? Sure they were frienemies, bordering more towards, dare he say it, _friends_ ever since he apologized for being such a twat with the slushie incident, but he never thought Blaine would actively seek him out to him help fit in in this tragic place.

It was always the opposite way around, with Blaine constantly ignoring his calls and flirtatious texts late at night.

"Why?"

Blaine's brows knitted together in confusion. "Why what? You can't just sit around on your own, and I'm pretty sure we're the only people you know here who will talk to you, even if it's just to insult you." He laughed. "Come on, you need a friend."

That was just insulting. "I don't need anything from you right now. It's awful enough that I have to put up with the stench of Lima Loser from nine until four, five days a week, I don't need to add concentrated doses of delusional, talentless Broadway wannabes on top of that."

He wasn't even sure why he was in such a foul mood with the smaller boy. Usually he'd jump at the chance to get him alone without lady Hummel, but right now he just wanted to go home, shower and head back out to drown his sorrows with drinks bought by randomers who he might even repay later if they were good looking enough.

He didn't notice that Blaine was still frowning at that, also as perplexed by Sebastian's change of heart as he was.

"I just thought after Karofsky," Blaine swallowed hard when Sebastian's eyes darted suddenly to his; it was still an uncomfortable topic, "that you'd, you know, be more _civil_ towards us. I'm only trying to help."

"You're so naïve, Blaine." He smiled almost fondly. "Thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

He walked away then, noticing that his father was now parked across the road, with his sunglasses on and window rolled down, even though they were only in mid-March now.

He crashed as soon as he reached his bedroom, so much for getting wasted.

But he'd survived his first day at McKinley.


	3. A bit of history & some humiliation too

**I didn't mean to leave it this long before updating again, I'm sorry. I plan to have weekly/fortnightly updates (probably on Fridays) from now on, I promise.**

**I must say a huge thank you to all the people who have favourited, followed and reviewed this so far, you're all amazing. **

**I hope continue to enjoy this, let me know what you think! **

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By day four of Sebastian's first week at McKinley, nothing much had changed. He had started to hang around with a few people from his classes, but he doesn't really pay much attention to anything they are saying. He's not even sure he could name them all; they all have such similar faces, having said that, they do have more identifiable characteristics than their Dalton counterparts, such as 'the girl with the dolly pink halter neck' or 'the guy who clearly got dressed in the dark', which Sebastian is at least a little bit thankful for.

English still remains the worst part of the day, with Kurt finding a new way to aggravate him about his situation each day, with his fluttering eyes and innocent smile. Of course, it's easy to wind him up right back, he just has to fantasize out loud, and in great detail, all the things he's imagined doing with Blaine, _to_ Blaine, or pick at his insecurities, which Kurt lays out so clearly it's almost shameful to miss out on the opportunity.

He talks and talks for the entire hour, making sure to add a tangible amount of desire into his tone when talking about Blaine, until the blush is high on Kurt's cheeks and he's so flustered he can't even think of a scathing response.

So by last period, Kurt has nothing but pent up rage to expel to poor old Rachel, and he watches with the greatest satisfaction as Kurt becomes flurried and increasingly animated recounting all of the comments Sebastian had come up with. It pleases him greatly that he knows exactly what buttons to push to get this reaction out of Kurt.

Usually, he flees the building as quickly as humanly possible, avoiding all potential conversation obstacles. But the following Tuesday afternoon, after collecting his things from his locker, (which unfortunately is only three spaces down from Kurt and Rachel's), he decided to investigate this school a little more.

Making his way across the hallway, he looked across the bulletin boards, sparse in notices due to the late month of the academic year. It was entirely ridiculous that his father had made him transfer just over two months before he would graduate. His father had that kind of persuasive power unfortunately.

No lacrosse team.

He shouldn't have been shocked at all; he doubted very much that students here even knew what lacrosse was. In terms of athletics, he knew from his semi-weekly sports lessons that there were four groups of student here; the air headed, unnecessary aggressive football players, the scarily thin, incredible flexible Cheerios, the rejects who still hadn't recovered from being cut from the team almost before they'd even signed up, and those to whom any kind of sport related activity was probably worse than death.

His time in Paris had exposed him to a different attitude to life and high school careers. Being on the opposite side of the Atlantic, the most noticeable thing was the difference in culture. Everything was totally different.

He'd been to France before of course, many more times than others from Western Ohio who may not have even left the state, never mind the country, but no more than those in the elite social circles that he and his arguably too-wealthy family travelled in.

Last year was the first time he'd lived and been educated there, though. It was his mother's idea. She was born and raised in France, but she went to college in the states due to a family ingrained love for exploration and travelling, and her nature to become restless meant that she switched residency between the states and the fifth republic more times than Sebastian switched sexual partners, almost.

Usually it wouldn't be for extended periods, three to six months at the most. Her job as a freelance interior designer and occasional amateur architect meant that she could travel more liberally, providing that she wasn't currently on a job. She would pack up and leave, and then almost floating away, and they never knew when or if she'd return.

It confused Sebastian and it hurt his father, hurt him a lot more than he showed. Mainly because his job and his commitment to giving his children a stable and familiar upbringing tied him to the states, and he wanted more than anything to follow her everywhere, and had done since he was just twenty one years old and picking up the leaflets which had cruelly blown throughout the east side of the Stanford campus on one wintery day.

Strangely, the constant upheaval of their everyday life never broke the family and when they were together it was as if the she'd never been away. He wasn't sure if his father was deluded or really that desperate to hang on to his mother, or if they really did love each other enough to never let distance touch them.

All in all, he guessed his parent's relationship was pretty admirable, but he never understood them. They didn't appear to be the sort who stayed together for the sake of staying together. They still shared long glances over dinner, held hands whilst sat on the couch watching television; they even went on date nights every Tuesday and Friday, they were the whole still-madly-in-love-even-after-all-these-years couple.

It was around Sebastian's sixteenth birthday that she decided to try something new. She wanted Sebastian to experience the life and love of travelling and just _see_. See the world as she saw it before he went to college. His older brother, Matthew, had moved to San Francisco last fall, and Sebastian suspected it was the loss of one son and the impending departure of her only other one which spurred her into including Sebastian on her latest adventure.

Sebastian was initially reluctant to leave his father alone, but after long discussions, he decided to take a sabbatical at last and they relocated to France. They made their home in the city itself, owning a grand apartment with spectacular views that Sebastian wasn't totally sure he deserved to wake up to every morning.

His mother had explained that she wanted this to be the most excellent year of his life and that he needed to experience everything. And oh, he did. The Parisian nightlife was the most incredible thing he'd experienced in his life. It made even Ohio's most outrageous gay bars seem duller than a black and white photograph of an empty field on a spring day. The city was so busy and vibrant and _alive _and he loved every day.

It didn't even get him down that his studies were harder (with half of them being taught in French – whilst he was fluent now, there was that little bit of a delay translating the history of the French revolution first thing on a Monday morning), and there seemed to be much less focus on sport; which was a pleasant change in the hierarchy.

Coming full circle in his current thought train, Sebastian remembered where he was. He'd been staring vacantly at the bulletin board for at least five minutes now. He shook his head and began skimming the posters for anything of adequate interest. This school was so boring.

The competitive football season was over now, which would have been his first choice after lacrosse, but his well-built frame made him quite an adaptable athlete all round, if he wanted to be. He was sure he could make it onto the baseball or basketball team easily enough, so he signed his name for both.

His attention was caught by a pale blue poster covered in small gold stars advertising the sign-up sheet for the New Directions. His eyes flitted to the page, which unsurprisingly had no names written besides insults that were more unimaginative than Sebastian's chat up lines and crude drawings. He laughed a little whilst reading the names, and then turned to walk towards the parking lot.

He paused briefly, and thought about signing up. He wasn't sure if it was because he was really that bored, or if he craved the opportunity to ruin something that was so special to so many he'd classed as his enemies, or if it was because he missed the Warblers after all.

Realising how lame he sounded, he shook his head somewhat violently and turned around to be hit square in the face with a cup full of icy liquid.

He felt the slush work its way rapidly through his shirt, drenching him through and through in red dye no6. He thought just saying out loud that he now attended public school because he got caught whoring around one too many times was bad, but he had never felt more humiliated in his life than right now.

He stood deathly still, arms hanging in mid-air with an expression of pure disbelief, making way for anger to flood his features but not without the high red tones of embarrassment riding high on his cheekbones, which unfortunately, the red slush only helped to emphasize.

The sting in his eyes was the worst part and shit if he didn't feel true, honest regret for what he did to Blaine now, and this slushie didn't even have rock salt in it.

"Welcome to McKinley, prancy boy!" He thought he heard someone shout in his ear as two jocks high fived, laughed and then sauntered away, clearly this was a proud moment for them, he thought.

In retrospect he should have expected this sooner, a new kid was _always_ the labelled the victim, and being from a private all-boys school, the temptation of the potential to humiliate and bully such a boy was too big to resist. Of course they didn't know that Sebastian wasn't easy pickings and he would definitely never stand for this and his intelligent, cutting words would bring them down in a heartbeat.

But he would have to wait to regain his dignity and his pride until tomorrow morning until he could actually see through the thick red ice crystals that were currently irritating his eyes right now.

Slowly, so as to limit the movement and spread of the slushie down the back of his shirt, he raised his hands to his face, wiping the liquid from his eyes almost comically. He didn't know the quickest way to the bathroom yet or have a change of clothes, and seeing other people would inevitably happen, which was fantastic.

Thankfully, he had some luck, because those as of yet unidentified idiots decided to slushie him after school hours when most people had already scattered, keeping the humiliation to a minimum. He only saw one person on the way to the bathroom, and she looked at him with a resigned pity that explained well enough that she'd been where he was now, probably several times.

Pulling out more than half of the supply of paper towels from the corner of the deserted bathroom, he began to wipe the ice off of his face, wincing at the freezing temperature that was slightly numbing his face and now he thought about it, his chest too. And maybe even his pants.

Oh for fucks sake, he thought bitterly, anger now becoming his primary emotion. He looked down and sure enough the ugly red colouring had surpassed his jeans and soaked through his underwear. He was not looking forward to the half hour journey home.

He dabbed underneath his shirt and around his jeans, and even attempted to use the hand dryer to dry his shirt a little, before throwing the used pile of tissue into the bin and pushing the bathroom door back open.

He strode as proudly and as quickly as he could out of the front doors and towards his car. It had only taken his father a week to let him drive himself to school after he realised that although it was hilarious to wind up Sebastian so early in the morning, it also inconvenienced his work schedule.

He threw his bag into the passenger seat of his 'too beautiful to be parked amongst these cheap hand-me-down excuses for cars' Infiniti FX model, which admittedly was a little oversized for his needs and probably pretty pretentious for a high school senior who should be trying a little harder to fit in if he wanted to avoid being slushied again. Sighing, he turned the ignition and drove home, not even bothering to switch on the radio.

He didn't notice that Kurt had seen the whole thing.

Ever since he started attending McKinley, there had been a quiet tension building each night at family dinners. Though neither parent had spoken directly to Sebastian about it, he had the feeling that they'd been arguing about it more and more each day.

His mother hadn't been entirely on board with Sebastian transferring at such an unreasonably late month just to teach him a lesson by giving him a public school diploma. But his father had insisted that it would work, and he would gain a lot more independence and maturity from the experience.

By the time he'd arrived home his clothes had mostly dried, but he was still in a foul mood. He skipped the 'hellos' and empty 'how was school, honey?' greetings and stormed straight upstairs to take a shower.

The family lived just outside Lima, in the wealthiest part of town, of course. Unfortunately for him, that also meant that he was well within the district of McKinley High. With Dalton being a boarding school, he'd got used to the distance and semi-independence of living away from his parents, so this past week had been somewhat stressful relearning how to be around them every evening.

The Smythe household was moderately sized given their wealth; Edward Smythe preferred to spend his money on expensive cars and suits, whilst Amelié, being an interior designer, used their money on lavish furnishings that completed the home.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the residence was how it reflected on them as a family. It was not a cold household, which some considered surprising given Amelié's penchant for travelling, but the very opposite. Amelié Smythe considered each and every place she chose to live in with careful, delicate consideration, threading her very personality throughout the walls of the building. Their Ohio home was one she'd chosen to keep ever since that first viewing fourteen years ago.

Each room was tastefully designed with warm but neutral colours, the furniture was plentiful but not overwhelming, and the walls featured expansive ranges of art. She had designed the home in a way which meant each room represented a different side of their family life; the kitchen was modern and functional but also inviting and well equipped, the study offered privacy and a motivating work space which grew Amelié's creative mind, and the living room brought the family together with its engaging and varied atmosphere.

It was completely their own.

Sebastian spent longer than usual in the shower, taking the time to let the hot water work its way into his overly stressed muscles. He'd do this every so often when he'd had a particularly awful day, but today it didn't quite work due to the lingering feelings of humiliation.

After around half an hour, he shut off the water and dressed himself in clean clothes; a simple striped polo shirt in shades of blue with dark denim jeans which weren't skin tight but complimented perfectly the structure of his legs and hips particularly well.

He was halfway down the staircase when he heard the heated whispers of his parents. Strangely, it sounded almost as if his father was laughing at something, Sebastian felt a little relieved. He gently walked two more steps down, trying to get close enough to hear them but keeping quiet enough to remain unnoticed.

"I know, I know. No, Edward we shouldn't laugh its technically bullying." He heard his mother say, laughing.

"But this has worked out so much better than I thought! Think about it; remember last year, when he almost blinded that kid by doing the same thing?" There was a beat of silence. Sebastian cursed under his breath; he hated that memory and had done everything possible to tarnish it from his mind.

"Edward!" She scolded. "Come on this isn't fair." She drew out the last syllable before breaking out into a giggle.

The family were able to joke about his past mistakes occasionally now, at the time he'd been given a harsh lecture, resulting in his allowance being cut for three months, grounding and most regrettably, formal apologies sent to both Blaine and Dave Karofsky as well as the several other (hundred) people he'd personally offended over the past eighteen months. It was a low point in his otherwise superior life.

"You've got to see the hilarity of it though, right? He turns up home an hour late, drenched in red dye with a face that looks like someone just sent some horrible manipulated photographs of him nude around the entire school-" Edward snorted at his own hilarity, Sebastian was now almost at breaking point. His father knew about that _incident_ as well, he fucking hated his warped sense of humour sometimes.

"Don't talk about him that way. Wait- what if that's what happened? You don't think-?" There was a dramatic gasp, and then the pair broke out into laughter.

That was it, he needed some air. Sebastian practically jumped the rest of the distance to the bottom of the staircase, landing agilely. He crossed the space towards the door and grabbed the lead that was hanging from the coat hook by the front door which of course immediately gained the attention of the small but incredible energetic collie who was lounging in the next room. Cas bounded into the hallway, almost knocking Sebastian backwards whilst he whined at him to hurry up and get going.

After sensing the movement of the previously sleeping creature, Amelié and Edward turned suddenly from where they were keeled over laughing to look towards the door.

"'Bastian honey? Where are you going?"Amelié asked, in a feather light tone.

"Out." He replied in a clipped tone, facing the door.

"What about dinner? I made our favourite when I saw you'd had a rough day." She tried.

He rolled his eyes and held his breath. Attaching the lead to Cas, he turned and slammed the door behind him, heading to the only place he knew could really calm him down on a day like this.

After a brief walk in the opposite direction to central Lima, he reached the city park, surprisingly empty for the early evening.

He released the now intolerable energetic collie from his lead, and he ran off up and over the biggest hill in the park. Fantastic, Sebastian thought.

After chasing him halfway around the park, and exhausting himself, but unfortunately not Cas (did that damn dog _ever_ get tired?!) he finally settled down in his favourite spot; right at the top of the park.

He tied Cas around the tree, and collapsed down into a nice spot of sun, really wishing he'd thought this though more and bought some kind of picnic after he skipped out on dinner.

Thankfully, he did have his favourite book, as he'd grabbed his satchel too out of habit on the way out. Sebastian fashioned a pillow out of his hoodie, leaning back and settling into the good hour that was left before sunset when he'd return home.

He'd only reached the beginning of chapter three when he felt a shadow cast over him, and heard a soft, suspicious growl coming from Cas who had been dozing to his left. With a sigh he looked up towards the source of the shadow, expecting it to be some mother with her elementary school kid coming to compliment him on how gorgeous the dog was. Cas tended to bring out what he liked to call the "single father" reaction in literally everyone they ever walked past, with Cas's adorably dorky face and Sebastian breaking the common stereo type of compassionate dog owner, they were an unstoppable force for attention.

As it turns out, Sebastian's eyes fell upon the very last person he expected to see knelt down and cooing sweet nothing's to Cas; Kurt Hummel. Admittedly, surprise was the first emotion to hit Sebastian followed by amusement at his behaviour and then just plain annoyance because this was _his_ park and he came here to be alone.

He quickly schooled his features into his trademark smirk before saying, "can I help you, princess?" probably a bit harsher than necessary and returning his attention back towards the well-worn book.

Kurt's face fell slightly at the offensive term from the dazed, scrunched up expression he'd adopted upon seeing Cas. He looked towards Sebastian, shooting him a glare which he unfortunately did not notice, and replied;

"Your gorgeous little friend here caught this one's attention", he gestured towards his right and Sebastian looked over to see a stunning brindle greyhound sniffing delicately around the area.

"I thought a dachshund or a Chihuahua would be more your style. You know, one that fits in your handbag and matches your gay face." He laughed to himself slightly. "I'm impressed."

Kurt gave him the most insincere of smiles in return, muttered something to himself and turned to walk away.

A moment later however, he turned back to Sebastian with an unexpectedly serious expression to ask "why do you never lets down the walls you're clearly tries so desperately hard to keep up?"

This took Sebastian by surprise. Where on earth did that come from? What even gave Kurt that impression?

Instead of asking these thoughts aloud, he avoided the situation entirely. When it became clear that Kurt wasn't going to get a response, he sighed loudly and carried on walking away.

The truth was Sebastian couldn't let go and show his weaker side. Ever. It was pretty vulnerable of him to be sat in the park, reading classic British literature as it was. Besides, who did he have to let go around? Sebastian Smythe didn't have friends, only acquaintances, hook ups and enemies. He hadn't even had anyone he could call a friend in over six years.

The closest thing Sebastian had to a "healthy, trusting" relationship was with his older brother, Matt, who currently attended a university all the way across the country in San Francisco, meaning only saw him four times a year, and that's if he was lucky.

He'd learnt the hard way that trusting people makes you weak, it makes you vulnerable. By trusting someone else, you are giving part of yourself over to them to do as they please; to abuse it, manipulate it or throw it back in your face if they so desire.

Besides Matt, everyone he'd ever let in had broken some part of him, particularly his parents. Which is why, before he'd even begun high school; he vowed to take control and to distance himself from even the slight possibility of being hurt by someone else.

It was for the same reason that he didn't believe in love, didn't let himself get attached, didn't do relationships. He must remain his own person; he must control his own live and be the decider of his own emotions.

And it worked for him. Of course he felt emotions, he was human after all. It just seemed that the only emotions he'd let consume him were hatred and lust. The hatred perfected his snarky and witty personality, his two best friends in pushing and keeping people away and the latter making him a fantastic lover, who is able to have whoever he wanted (most of the time).

When this didn't go to plan, he sank into himself. Not that he'd ever admit that to another living being, but there _was_ a softer side to him: the side which deeply enjoyed literature and writing, writing anything and everything from novels to poems to lyrics. The side which felt truly at home at this specific spot under this particular tree whenever life was a particular ass to him, it was the side which let himself feel _everything_ whenever no one else was looking.

The slushie incident must have gotten to him more than he thought, shaking his head to pull him back to reality. He was pretty sure he'd just read the same paragraph eight times over, and not a single word had sunk in.

He glanced to his watch, and realised a lot more time had passed than he originally thought, he looked around to take in his surroundings, noticing for the first time the late hour by the darkening sky, highlighted by gorgeous, golden orange tones that bled into yellows, whites and even patches of red that spoke only of a warm spring evening – a pleasant turnaround from the cooler weather of last week.

The park was almost empty now, as it was a still a weekday in mid-March after all, but he noticed across the way were two small figures, nearly shadows now, hard to make out with the lack of light. One was leaning softly against a tree, the other four legged and a lot less graceful. Kurt was still here; perhaps he should say hi, apologize for earlier? No, he couldn't.

He debated for a few minutes whether this was too out of character to be plausible, but decided that seen as he couldn't get back into the mood to read, fuck it. He'd go and talk to Lady Hummel.

He made his way across the park, hoping that Kurt wouldn't look up and see him approaching, so he'd have some time to figure out how he was going to play this. Thankfully, his prayers were answered, and Kurt didn't look up even when Sebastian made his presence obvious by clearing his throat rather loudly. Oh, so he was ignoring him then? Cute.

He sat down hard on the grass beside the bench that Kurt was occupying; he was nearly pulled sideways by the force of Cas seeing another dog again. He steadied himself and looked up to Kurt, who had his face buried in the latest issue of _Vogue_, (which was not shocking at all), his jaw clenched and posture stiff, as if being in the very presence of Sebastian was something that required incredible self-control. Which to be honest, it probably did.

"I saw you earlier, you know." Kurt said, surprising Sebastian with his strange choice of greeting.

"Well, that's shocking, considering that we share two classes each and every weekday." He half grimaced, drawing out each syllable of the latter half of the sentence, as if to describe the true torture he felt from it.

"I mean, I saw what happened after school, before you left." Kurt retorted, deflecting the sarcasm. Sebastian's usual certainty of having the upper hand in the conversation suddenly dropped.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Sebastian, whilst watching you get hit in the face with that cup of icy justice was the highlight of my entire week, or perhaps even my entire year, I can tell it's actually hit you deep enough to force you to feel some kind of human emotion." Kurt said, placing his copy of _Vogue_ aside to look at Sebastian, finally.

"Are you psychoanalyzing me, Kurt?"

"No. I'm just trying to understand what you're doing. You show up at McKinley, sulking for the entire week straight, hardly talking to anyone, not even the mildly attractive guys and then when you finally get slushied, you turn all angsty and turn up in the park of all places. That's very… emotional-freelance-artist of you. It just doesn't fit at all with the image I had of you."

"Yeah well you don't know me do you?" He almost spat. He hated how pathetically accurate Kurt's portrayal of his behaviour was. It was true, he'd even stopped trying to talk to Robin after about three days.

"Quite obviously not." He responded, feeling the tension. "We took bets on when it would happen by the way, the slushie. I bet a lot sooner, I was shocked by how long you lasted, it has happened to everyone, even the jocks, though that's more of an initiation than a humiliation." He said after a few moments, to try and ease the awkwardness.

It didn't work.

"Fantastic." Why had he even come over to talk to Kurt, why had Kurt even come to talk to him? It was a stupid spur of the moment decision that was just winding him up more. He got up to leave, he'd taken a few steps when Kurt blurted out "I thought you'd-"

"Thought I'd what?" He asked, genuinely quite curious.

"Never mind." He replied, turning once again to pick up his _Vogue_.

Sebastian shrugged, pulling Cas along whilst he walked out of the park. If he turned back at all to look at Kurt, engrossed in his magazine, Kurt didn't see.


	4. The Second Slushie & The Cheerio

**I cannot apologize enough for the gap in the update. I've had most of this written for the past three weeks but I was so unsure of it.**

**I had a lull in motivation after everything that has happened. It's taken me longer than I thought to come back.**

** If you've followed or favorited this story and you're still sticking with me, I can't thank you enough it's very motivating. I hope this was worth the wait. & ****As always, feedback of all kinds are encouraged to help me out on this.**

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Sebastian arrived at McKinley the next morning a little out of it.

After getting home last night, he'd spent a few hours experimenting with cocktail making for no good reason other than as soon as he opened the front door his parents ambushed him and tried to get him to talk about his _feelings. _He should've gone in through his bedroom window; he thought bitterly, much more work but much less parental hassle.

He waited (impatiently) for them to give up trying to get him to talk about it and retire to bed before raiding their alcohol stock which was after all, expansive. Part of him believed he may still be a little bit drunk now, what with the way the ground shifted unsteadily under his feet as if it was made from foam.

Mostly he just had a dull headache growing lightly as the morning wore on and the sun got higher in the sky and the temperature rose with it.

He got out of the car, careful with how lightly he slammed the door and walked on into school. He didn't notice the stares or the quiet giggles from several groups of girls as he walked by, and if he did, he mistook it for their attraction to him. Duh.

He'd blissfully forgotten the events of the previous day, and wasn't reminded until he'd had his head stuck in his locker long enough to be surrounded by half a dozen, quite intimidating jocks.

It wasn't until he heard them shifting impatiently; still trying to be quiet, but a lot heavier on their feet than they probably thought, that he even noticed they were there. Which was surprising seen as there was more than yesterday. Whether to reduce his chances of escaping unharmed or to increase the levels of humiliation, he didn't know.

Either way, there was no way past them, as the hallway now almost full to breaking point, had turned its attention to the circle of jocks surrounding the new kid. He sighed quietly; he should have known that yesterday's incident had too small an audience to satisfy the crowds of McKinley, who seem promote anti-bullying every time they were shoved into lockers or slushied in the face or had their lunch money stolen, but apparently forgot all conceivable morals when it allowed them to have a good laugh at someone else's expense, for once.

'What a gripping double standard' he thought, as he slammed his locker shut, took two deep breaths and plastered a confident smirk onto his face before turning around to face them.

As his eyes scanned the semi-circle to meet the eyes of each jock dressed in those ridiculously oversized McKinley High letterman jackets, he remained totally calm on the outside. Inside, he was desperately thinking of any way he could avoid having to go the rest of the day in soaked, stained clothes which, for once, he actually made some effort in planning. He knew he should have brought a change of clothes.

He walked two baby steps forward away from the wall of lockers and the jocks moved two steps backwards with him, now forming a complete circle in the middle of the hall and completely blocking it, forcing all students present, whether interested or not, to pay attention.

Well, shit. He hoped this didn't backfire on him anymore than it already had. His head was already feeling worse and he couldn't concentrate properly.

"Morning boys, can I help you with anything?" He asked, which was most definitely stupid, because he knew, they knew, the _entire_ hallway knew why they were there. He was really stalling.

They all laughed, not the nice, satisfactory kind of laugh that you get from your friends when you tell a particularly funny joke, but the cruel, mocking kind - the kind that blatantly screams that 'we're laughing _at_ you, not _with_ you, you jerk.' Sebastian _hated_ that laugh.

"News kid is a posh boy _and_ dumb? Wow. All those years of private education really paid off", one tall jock spat, turning to accept a high five from the shorter man on his left.

"Well at least my parents have money." He spat back, he wasn't taking this shit and he wouldn't be the victim. The jock must have took some offense to that, as he stopped laughing and turned to face Sebastian, taking a step forward and almost violently grabbing the collar of his shirt. His face had hardened, his jaw set and his eyes cold – a contrast to the cruel smile of a moment ago, eyes wide with superiority.

"Are you talkin' back to me? What did you just say about my family?" The jock retorted. Sebastian's words were a low blow and he knew it. He was raised into the belief of not judging people on their wealth, family values or history. In fact, it was one of the things he admired the most about his family, they never let their wealth go to their heads and translate to an elitist attitude.

Despite the private education, decent sized house, collection of cars and numerous trips to Europe, Sebastian thought his parents were pretty down to earth about money. They weren't in any 'millionaire clubs' and whilst they frequented the neighbourhood of Ohio's elite class, they never once pretended to share their views. They even held charity benefits three times a year and Edward Smythe donated 25% of his annual income to various charitable groups in and around Ohio.

He was pretty sure at the last benefit that half of the money raised had gone to the schools in the West Lima district, including McKinley. Sebastian was pulled his thoughts by a rough shove to his right shoulder.

"That was uncalled for." He grimaced.

"I said, what the fuck did you just say about my family?" The jock repeated, advancing on Sebastian, raising the slushie in his hand higher, as if it would threaten him more.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, you know. You see, my dad's sort of what us more _knowledgeable_ call a state's attorney, so-" He was pretty sure he'd parroted some variation of this line to every person he'd ever met at one point in his life. It was sort of his 'get out of jail free' card, though apparently this time it wasn't working.

"Posh boy's hiding behind daddy", he taunted, moving to pinch one of Sebastian's cheeks as if he was a child. Sebastian pulled back quickly. "My guess is you'll be too embarrassed to tell daddy about your struggle at the bottom of the food chain here", he paused. "Don't need no private education to feel the waves of superiority coming off you. And we're here to teach you your first real life lesson and put you back where you belong." He said, inching closer with each word. His words were obviously meant as a fear inspiring speech about how he should back down and play his part, but hell would freeze over before Sebastian Smythe ever bowed down to any of these self-righteous, dumb twats.

"Will you just get this over with? I'm bored and I have class in-" he replied, ignoring the dig and raising his wrist to glance at his watch. He dramatically calculated the time, "three minutes." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently – he hoped they didn't catch on to his fake nonchalance. He could feel his façade cracking just a tiny bit and that was tearing him apart inside. He could pretend it was nothing all he wanted, but deep down he knew getting slushied was undeniably humiliating, no matter who you were.

"As you wish." The jock smiled, he nodded across the circle at another guy who presumably also held a slushie. He pulled the hand holding the slushie back slowly, aiming it back up into Sebastian's face.

Sebastian didn't think twice when he ducked down and slightly left a moment later, avoiding the majority of the blue coloured liquid. It felt like it was happening in slow motion – like something from a cheesy superhero blockbuster with too much CGI. He heard the gasp of the jock behind him as he took the hit of drink, but all he could see was the ten pairs of shoes he was now six inches from.

Part of him really thought they weren't going to do it. The threats about his father's powerful status had never failed to ensure him the highest respect before.

There was a beat of silence that went on for too long, then a group of gasps of disbelief from various points in the corridor and finally laughter. Laughter that sounded slightly frightened, though, as if they themselves would be slushied if they so much as acknowledged this moment.

Sebastian himself had developed a look somewhere in-between disbelief, pride and disgust at the parts of the slushie that were now unavoidably trailed down his back and through his (brand new) quite expensive shirt.

"What the fuck man?!" The slushie donned jock exclaimed, looking down at Sebastian. Oh of course he'd get the blame, because he was clearly the one who came here with the intention of assaulting someone in the face with an icy cold beverage first thing on a Wednesday morning, he though bitterly.

He rolled his eyes and the jock pushed out his right foot to kick Sebastian in the stomach. He hit him, but not too hard. Sebastian hardly grimaced at the pain, having gotten into much worse in drunken bar fights.

He put his weight into his right hand and pushed himself off the ground, hard and fast, pushing through two of the smallest looking jocks who were wearing twin looks of confusion, clearing having not caught up with the events yet. He briefly thought about kicking the guy back, but he was way too outnumbered, and, though he was reluctant to admit it, he really didn't want to cause any more trouble today,

They parted easily with his direction, as did the rest of the hallway. Sebastian was almost running to the unfortunate haven of math class at this point, hoping that the turn of events had been unexpected enough for the jocks to either take a short sabbatical to come to terms with it, meaning he'd be safe for at least the rest of the day or for them to have learnt their lesson not to mess with Sebastian god damn Smythe.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he turned on his heel, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted "oops", really working up the fake sincerity, then shrugged his shoulders again and turned the corner away from the over dramatic scene. So much for not digging his own grave.

He glanced at his watch again when he was three classrooms down from math; he only had one minute left. He cursed quietly under his breath, by now the cold drops of the slushie were beginning to spread more than he originally thought and he smelt faintly of blueberry. But hey, at least it hadn't ruined his hair or his precious face.

He looked up and down the hall again, glanced at his watch for a second time, decided 'fuck it' and headed towards the restroom.

He scanned the room swiftly, and upon determining that he was alone, he chucked his bag down by the sinks, moving towards the paper towel dispensers. He looked in the mirror briefly to access the damage, and then began to unbutton his shirt. The majority of the slushie was on his back, and he could hardly dry it properly with it on could he?

Halfway through the task he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening to his right, followed by a completely, undeniably recognisable high pitched remark of protest. His hands stopped cold.

"They got you _again_?" Kurt asked, recovering from his initial shock of finding Sebastian near topless in a public bathroom. And if Sebastian didn't know any better he say that he detected a note of sympathy hidden under a quiet chuckle.

Kurt tried to catch his eye in the mirror but Sebastian turned to face him before he could. Which may have been a mistake. Because now Kurt had crept closer to him and was practically within brushing distance of Sebastian. And it was stepping way too far over any boundaries he thought he didn't have to explain to Kurt.

Kurt had reached blindly for one of the paper towels and started to reach for Sebastian's face to get some unnoticed slushie crystals from the back of Sebastian's neck.

He didn't get very far before Sebastian exclaimed "don't fucking touch me!" Skipping backwards speedily and violently hitting the sink behind him. Apparently he was going to get a lot of bruises today.

This time he did grimace at the pain which shot up his spine and made him reach backwards suddenly. Kurt noticed this and took two full steps back, eyes darting straight to the floor.

"I was only trying to help. I'm kind of an expert in this field, you know? It was a reflex." He laughed, it sounded quite self-depreciating. Kurt's cheeks started to go slightly red, blushing at the rejection of trying to help.

"I'm fine, they missed my face, see?" He replied, it wasn't apologetic but it wasn't patronizing or harsh either, which must be something.

Kurt looked up then, noticing that his face was, in fact, really free of blue ice. He smiled just a little.

"First time I've ever heard of anyone dodging a slushie. Must have quite a talent there." Sebastian ignored the compliment in favour of turning around to continue unbuttoning his shirt.

"Could you not?" Kurt almost yelled, but tried somewhat to keep his voice low.

Sebastian glanced sideways at him and smirked, removing the shirt completely and holding it up in front of himself.

"Oh come on!" He relented, groaning at the state of his shirt, half of which was covered in dark blue splotches that were still spreading rapidly. He looked towards Kurt again and noticed that he had his eyes pinned shut and was facing away from Sebastian.

"My god you're such a prude." He said, knocking Kurt on the shoulder in an attempt to get him to open his eyes. Kurt protested.

"It's fine, look I've got an undershirt on, see?"

Sebastian didn't know why he was telling the boy the truth, to be honest it would probably be much more fun to leave him squirming, or even to get fully naked, but a quick glance at his watch again told him he was already four minutes late. Not that he cared.

"Seriously, Kurt, you can open your eyes. The sight of my perfectly toned, slightly tanned and completely gorgeous arms isn't going to burn them out of your sockets."

"For some crazy reason I don't believe you." Kurt retorted, turning further away.

"Well you'll just have to trust me then, won't you?" Kurt actually snorted at that.

"Trust _you_?" He snorted again; Sebastian's smirk fell a little. "_You_?" He repeated, breaking out into a full on giggle fit, but opening his eyes anyway.

Relieve and just a tiny bit of shock covered Kurt's features when he finally risked facing Sebastian. He stopped laughing and an awkward silence fell over the two. Kurt averted his eyes again, turning his attention to the clock placed behind Sebastian.

"Shit! I'm so late!" Kurt said. He reached for his bag and dashed towards the next mirror to check on his appearance which he'd already spent a good hour working on. He rubbed under his eye lids self-consciously, worry coating his expression. He pulled out a concealer stick, glanced at Sebastian to check his attention was elsewhere, and began to dab a light coat under his eyes.

"Are you wearing _makeup_?" Sebastian said, with such a tone of accusation and downright judgement, that it flipped the defensive switch in Kurt immediately.

"It's concealer, _Sebastian_. Used by many a man who actually cares about their appearance." He replied, acting offhand.

"Sure, whatever." Sebastian laughed, seeing straight through him.

"God, will you quit judging me already? I refuse to be the stereotype you think I am. Never had a bad day?" Kurt said, his voice slightly more strained. He closed the cap on the concealer and placed it back in his bag with a little more force than needed. He turned quickly on his heel, bee lining straight for the door, which unfortunately he had to pass Sebastian to get to.

"Someone's touchy this morning." Sebastian responded, just as Kurt's hand reached the door handle. He turned slightly to catch Sebastian's eye.

"Oh fuck you." Kurt countered, it was utterly cold. "And I was just about to offer you my pocket sized stain remover to save your hideous but blatantly expensive shirt."

It was then that Sebastian saw how truly tired Kurt was; even wearing copious amounts of concealer couldn't hide the dark circles that rested under his eyes. It stunned Sebastian and he had no reply.

Well, no reply that wasn't 'I'm sorry Kurt, I didn't mean that' or 'what's happening to you?' or even more worryingly 'Kurt what can I do to help you?'

Instead he just remained silent, and let Kurt walked out of the door.

The rest of the day went by without another hiccup. It didn't fly by, per se, but nobody bothered him, nobody even looked at him. Sebastian never thought he'd be glad for the lack of attention, but he was actually pretty grateful.

A strange energy had been building between Sebastian and nearly everyone he'd encountered – even the New Directions, although that was for a completely different reason. It was clear now why that was, the entire school had been waiting for Sebastian's luck to run out, and they seemed to be a mix of scared and excited for it.

He wondered what made these people's lives become so boring that they live for the events of petty bullying and food fights twice annually in the cafeteria.

Kurt had even stayed completely silent during the last two periods. Sebastian had thought he'd at least crack some form of condescending smile or look of horror at the outfit Sebastian had been forced to adopt for the entire day.

After an extra fifteen minutes in the restroom, desperately trying to dry out his shirt by dabbing paper towels onto it and then pushing it under a hand dryer for a good long while, he gave up, realising he was in fact, making the situation a whole lot worse.

He regretted pissing off Kurt earlier, he could really have used some decent stain remover before it was too late. He grunted silently, cursing that stupid jock, and put the shirt in the trash. He was perhaps more annoyed at the inconvenience of having to go out and get a replacement shirt – it was a very nice shirt – than the heartbreak of such an expensive, recently bought item being ruined.

He walked back over to the mirror then, pulling at the hem of his vest shirt to make it appear more casual. The vest was off-white and made of an expensive material so he thought it could appear causal enough to look like summer wear as opposed to an undershirt. He shrugged at himself; he didn't really have any other options, picked up his almost neglected bag and strutted out towards math.

Instead, Kurt didn't even acknowledge Sebastian even when he slammed him bag down a little harsher than necessary. By accident, of course. He rolled his eyes at the lack of response but took his seat next to him after a particularly accusatory glare from his teacher.

It remained the same for the entire hour. Kurt replaced their usual verbal sparring battles by actually throwing himself into his work, his pen hardly leaving the paper from the moment the first bell rang until the second one which signalled the students to move on.

Kurt was always very studious, Sebastian had noted, but usually he'd take a relaxed approach to the subject, taking time to plan and think and _breathe_, to give his hand a break from writing and actually talking – or arguing, if Sebastian was involved – with those closest to him. He was intelligent enough to do it and still keep straight A's, Sebastian was sure. He'd never read any of his work, but based on the creativity and wit of his insults alone, he was most definitely the cream of McKinley.

Something must truly be bothering him; Sebastian thought and then admonished himself for even noticing, never mind worrying about it. That didn't stop Sebastian from trying to wind him up though, even if it was a one sided fight.

What was perhaps more interesting was that even by last period, where Kurt sat by Rachel, his mood hadn't improved much. His usual quips about the last hour spent with Sebastian or comments about her narcissistic attitude because she'd just been denied the solo for this week's group number '_again'_ were absent, from what he could hear. In fact, he could hear nothing but the whining tones of Miss-Barbra-Wannabe filling the otherwise silent conversation. He wondered if Rachel even noticed Kurt's melancholy mood.

Perhaps this was normal. He'd only ever known Kurt to be strong willed, upbeat, confident and witty, but then again, he'd only been here for a fortnight and saw Kurt in an academic, emotionally scarring and homophobic setting twice a day at that.

He pushed these thoughts aside, growing agitated with Kurt for taking up so much of his time, even indirectly. Sebastian didn't exactly have a reputation for being the concerned, selfless, good willed guy.

That evening, like every other evening for the past two weeks, Sebastian begged his father to let him return to Dalton. Each night, he came up with a slightly reworded but no less meaningful and inspiration (according to him, anyway) speech about how he's learnt his lesson, how he'll never fool around again and how he finally understands the true value of graduating high school from a prestigious private school.

Of course, none of these things are true, except the last one. That one was becoming an increasing concern on his list, slightly below not being able to get laid as easily though. It wasn't quite that bad, _yet_.

The time of acceptance letters was approaching, and whilst he already had early acceptance into several colleges around the west coast, including Columbia, part of him worried that somehow the news of his lesser status at this dead-end-school-for-peasants would have reached the admissions board and they would immediately revoke his place.

He was trying harder and harder and each evening his father laughed harder and harder before refusing him and sending him upstairs.

Sebastian had even begun to promise all sorts of things he never intended on fulfilling in the eventuality of his return to Dalton. He promised to buy his father the oldest, most expensive bottle of gin from his own allowance, to wash his father's entire fleet of vintage cars, and even to get a job one night. It was a low point in a few aspects of Sebastian's life right now.

This evening, after his parents had finished discussing plans for their delayed spring break or whatever, he wasn't really listening; he started on the grovelling and apologies again. Edward managed to keep a straight face for a little longer this time as he glanced at Sebastian, giving him a look of almost genuine consideration before winking at him and laughing as he sipped his wine.

"No, Seb. You may be pretty apt at maths and outstanding at French" he winked at Amelié, "but no one, not even you, can learn the life changing lesson we want for our son in less than two weeks." He gave a smile that to those who didn't know him would interpret as honest sincerity.

Sebastian's face hit the table dramatically with a loud clunk. He didn't know which was more destroying for his soul – actively apologizing night after night against his better judgement to regain some dignity of a situation which all of his control had been cruelly stolen, or having to attend that damn diversity school for Lima losers where he couldn't shake the feeling he was losing a few hundred brain cells per day.

"We'll sit down and review the situation in a couple of months." Edward said whilst Amelié patted his shoulder lightly.

"But I'll have graduated by then!" Sebastian's head shot up.

"Really? Oh no. What a poor coincidence of timing." He mock pouted.

"Dad. You can't. Please, this game is getting old now. I'll do anything! It was a stupid idea, it's benefitting no one. You're basically ruining my entire life." He retorted, his face twisted in growing rage.

"Son, you were ruining your own life, that's why we decided to do this. There are plenty of benefits! You're home now, so we can keep our beady eyes on you at all eyes of the day, you're facing new challenges – granted, not with the curriculum, but with the people, right? Spice up the otherwise dull walks between classes. It's fun. It's a learning curve!" He chirped. "I'm actually pretty sure it's my most genius idea to date." He added, mock whispering it as if it was a great secret.

"Those are all benefits for you and mom! Do you enjoy fucking up my life? It's like you have nothing better to do."

"Language, 'Bastian." Amelié admonished. It was the first time she'd ever spoken whilst they were 'discussing' the topic.

"Oh like you care."

"Don't take the consequences of your mistakes out on your mother, Seb." Edward said, reaching for Amelié's hand.

"My mistakes? Like what? Living? Well my sincerest apologies." Sebastian mocked. He hated it when his parents got onto their high horses. He knew some of the grittier details of his parents past.

Amelié sighed. He had an idea that she was thinking the same thing, this was harsh and she knew it. It was ruining the family dynamic – however unusual and slightly deranged it had been. Damn his father's stubbornness.

"You were getting out of control, your priorities were wrong. I'm only trying to do what's best for you and your future." Edward said, seriously.

"My future? Exactly. Don't you think I'm old enough to make my own choices?" Sebastian replied, much calmer now that his father had stopped making a joke out of every word.

"I think you should be old enough, you're definitely smart enough. I just think you're… misguided." Edward answered.

Sebastian scoffed.

"I know what I'm doing. I got early acceptance, my finances and accommodation are already sorted out for the fall. My grades are- or were, perfectly secure, and I was headed straight to captaining our team to win the national lacrosse championship. And I did that all by myself."

Edward had no reply. In fact, Sebastian was just as dumbfounded that he'd actually managed to list achievements other than 'most hook-ups without calling back the next morning in a single weekend' or 'most consecutive shots by an underage regular' at Scandals. Which his parents _did not _know about.

"Well- I don't see how being in Lima changes any of that. Besides the, you know, lacrosse."

"You really have no idea about high school, do you? There is _nothing_ there for me." He didn't want to admit that but apparently it was too late.

"I thought you were trying out for the basketball team or whatever?" Edward asked.

"Baseball. And there is no championship, well, not nationally. And you cannot compare that team to Dalton's."

"What about that other Warbler kid. Surely you have some common ground?" Edward asked.

"Blaine?" Sebastian didn't even remember mentioning Blaine around his parents. "He's not really in many of my classes. And he's kind of annoying and clingy; I think his loser of a boyfriend has finally gone to his head. He was mighty fine though." He mused, more for his own benefit now than anything else.

Edward and Amelié frowned at him.

"You'll find your place soon honey." Amelié encouraged, reaching out to pat his shoulder again. Before she could reach across the table, Sebastian had stood up and headed upstairs to his room.

The next morning, Sebastian had received an e-mail from Coach Beiste that, whilst yes, it was ridiculously late in the year to be trying out for anything, she wouldn't begrudge anyone the chance of finding a place in this vicious school hierarchy. Sebastian had wondered if she'd still give him a chance if she knew him more. No one else seemed to.

She sent details of his try-out, today during the lunch hour, and Sebastian confirmed his attendance. Something to pass the time, right? He wasn't exactly settling in and admitting defeat. Not yet.

He decided to skip lunch and head straight to the locker room to get ready. He'd just changed into his oversized baseball shirt and made his way outside to the pitch, (the weather wasn't particularly bad today, which was a plus considering how it had been rather temperamental lately), when he saw _it_.

He'd heard of Sue Sylvester and her reputation of ridiculously over the top, totally insane routines of military style expense that had won her seven consecutive national championships - which even to Sebastian's low opinion of public school, was pretty impressive.

He heard the beat of 'Crazy In Love' drifting faintly across the open space, followed by a fleet of girls dressed in red and white uniforms. Several were being propelled one after another into the air and landing elegantly into the arms of three girls stood in a triangle below. They each had bright, wide, somewhat forced smiles painted across their faces, and held their positions so perfectly it was as if they would actually be killed by Coach Sylvester if so much as a hair moved out of place.

The girls had moved to form a bizarrely complex pyramid-with-a-twist, and then all movement stopped. There was a beat of silence, followed by a figure emerging right in the centre, supplying the lyrics to the extended instrumental homage to Beyoncé. He recognised the 'girly' overtones of voice immediately; it was the one and only, Kurt Hummel.

"Oh my god" Sebastian exclaimed.

Initially, he laughed because Kurt could not be any more of a stereotype. But then after several moments of watching from behind the bleachers, he was captivated.

He had to give it to Sue, she hadn't lost her edge yet. Kurt was absolutely perfect for this number; his whiny lady voice surprisingly suited the song better than ever Queen Bey herself. Arguably. He hit the notes in all the right places and really dramatized the song. Perhaps the most surprising thought Sebastian was unabashedly hit with was that Kurt could _move_. Like, _really_ _move_. His hip movements would undoubtedly rival those he'd seen at the gay bars down in Columbus.

He was momentarily distracted by Kurt grabbing the waist of the Cheerio in front of him to slowly move against her followed by an overtly sexual hip shaking to realise that this was _Kurt_. As in innocent, romantic, Broadway loving, always the designated driver Kurt.

He couldn't see perfectly from this distance, but either Kurt was out of his drama queen mood from yesterday, or he really was that good of an actor. He looked to be throwing himself into this performance either way, complete with a show stopping smile, as the song was drawing to a close and he grabbed the shoulder of another Cheerio. He leaned astoundingly far backwards, kicking his leg up high – and under any other circumstance Sebastian would have laughed callously in his face, drawling on about how it was the gayest thing he'd ever seen – but again he found himself slightly turned on? No.

Sebastian was sure his mouth had actually hit the floor at this point, but whether in shock or desire he did not know. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, either.

What he did know was that he seriously needed to stop staring.

But he couldn't. It was the uniform – he was sure. It had to be. But he'd never had a thing for uniforms before, had he? He was getting ahead of himself, this was just shock.

Kurt's voice was still travelling across the field, it was unusually high for a guy, of course, but that was no shock. He'd heard Kurt sing before around Blaine, sometimes quietly with Rachel during history class (well, _Rachel_ wasn't quiet), and even sometimes quietly under his breath during English. The first time he had heard Kurt sing was when he supplied the background vocals at Regionals.

It was strange how at the top of the pyramid, Kurt seemed more appreciated here, surrounded by hot, attractive, blond cheerleaders that he wouldn't look twice at, (in fact, Sebastian thought he could see one or two cheerleaders look at Kurt in a not so innocent way), than in the mess of a diversity group he pledged his life and soul too. He was the star and the life of the performance.

His voice was soft and breathless, even angelic. His face held the same qualities; he was pale and slightly sweating, because he had belted the song out like his life depended on it. He clearly had so much talent and passion, and he really could move.

The uniform complemented him in all the right ways, the short sleeves emphasizing the rounded muscles in his arms and the tight fitting fabric stretching across his stomach, pulling in slightly at the waist and sweet hell his legs went on for _days_. Sebastian sort of wished that the material of the trousers was as tight as the shirt because he had seen Kurt's ass in those jeans he favours so much and Coach Sylvester really was missing out by not showcasing that.

Still, he can't fault anything else because the high V-neck of his shirt highlighted the lines and smooth, flawless skin of his neck particularly well, and Sebastian found his thoughts wandering again to inappropriate, sexually frustrated measures before grounding himself in the Kurt-freaking-Hummel of it all once more.

For the finale of the number, Kurt was lifted graciously upwards through a pyramid of Cheerio's until he reached the top, closing the number on a drawn-out "love", completely changing the impact of the original version, and definitely displaying Kurt's amazing- no, Kurt's _shrill_ vocal range.

Kurt stilled after lifting both arms up into the air and after a beat of silence he heard the piercing noise of megaphone static.

"Outstanding." Sue said which must have been rare if the shocked but incredibly grateful faces of all the Cheerios were anything to go by. They were all panting heavily and looked truly exhausted.

"Now get off my pitch and hit the showers, sloppy babies." She said, and the megaphone screeched again. Wincing at the sound, Sebastian turned back towards the pitch where his try out would take place (for which he was already slightly late), before Kurt could get down from the pyramid and see him watching, and found Coach Beiste waving him over.

He couldn't think of a worse or equally better place to spend the rest of his day than two hours with _Cheerio Kurt._ Whether that was for him or for Kurt he hadn't decided. He'd seem some pretty decent material for their ritual verbal spars. And he couldn't focus on this dumb try-out at all.


End file.
